


It's a Pretty Picture

by Fire_Bear



Series: EngSpa Week 2016 [5]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Day 5, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, EngSpa Week 2016, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Rejection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 11:18:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7842862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is distraught - his relationship has just ended. But his best friend turns up to comfort him. Will Antonio be able to help?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Pretty Picture

**Author's Note:**

> Finally got this finished! Didn’t think I would for a minute there. O.o So behind now. ^^”
> 
> This has past FrUK talked about. And by ‘past’ FrUK, it’s recent past.
> 
> It’s for prompt #96, the broken picture.

Arthur stayed in a heap on the floor. He hadn't put the light on since earlier and now it was dark enough that it was difficult to see, if he had been trying. His tears had dried up and he no longer whimpered or made any sort of noise. Everything was still, quiet. Outside, a dog barked. Music from another flat thumped through Arthur's living room. A door slammed.

Then, suddenly, there was a knock at his front door. Arthur ignored it, believing they would leave soon. However, the knock came again and again. Five times, the person banged on Arthur's door. Silence returned after that and Arthur, who had tensed as the hammering had continued, relaxed once more, sighing. The noise made him blink. He twitched, considering at least sitting up.

A rattle. Arthur froze as the sound of a key entering the lock echoed through the flat. Afterwards, there was a click and the door opened, harshly, and slammed shut. Someone rushed from room to room, the shadow indistinct in the doorway before it moved on. Then they called out, sounding fearful. “Arthur! Where are you?!”

The voice belonged to Antonio, Arthur's best friend. They were unlikely friends, people said. Those people were usually the ones who had known them the longest. Although they had met when they were children, a massive fight in high school about a prank gone wrong had almost torn them apart. After making up, they had become closer and shared everything about their lives.

Why Antonio had turned up now, though, Arthur didn't know. He hadn't told him anything yet.

Since Antonio obviously expected to find him in his own home, Arthur sighed again and pushed himself upright, legs curled under him. “Toni,” he said, his voice carrying in the silence. “In the living room.”

Hurried footsteps moved closer and the shadow returned to the doorway. There was a slight pause. “Why are you sitting in the dark? I'm putting the light on.”

As soon as they could both see, Antonio gasped, staring at the fruits of Arthur's labour. Trinkets lay on the ground, the sturdier ones intact, if dented. One of them, in particular, a little Eiffel Tower ornament had been bent completely out of shape – Arthur vaguely recalled stamping on it several times. The more fragile ones were in bits, swept from the mantelpiece and the tables around the room to break on the floor. All the photos had been pulled from the walls and the surfaces they stood on, thrown on the ground. Most of them had survived Arthur's grief and rage, small cracks the only damage, except for one – his favourite.

It depicted a day early in his recently terminated relationship, when he, Francis and some of their friends went to a theme park. They'd challenged each other to beat the games at the stalls and Francis had managed to beat them all at the darts challenge. In fact, he had won himself one of the big prizes. He had chosen the largest, cutest teddy and given it to Arthur. They had their picture taken as Francis hugged Arthur from behind, Arthur hugging the teddy as he ducked his head in embarrassment. However, their happiness had shone through and, no matter how much they'd fought, Arthur could always take one look at the picture and remember how much he loved Francis.

Now it lay on the ground, glass completely cracked, one side of the frame coming away from the rest.

Upon spotting it, Arthur clutched at his chest, drawing together his shirt which had come undone during his carnage. The pain was too much and he curled in on himself, choking back the sobs he had thought were long over. Across the room, there came a gasp and Arthur looked up to see Antonio wide-eyed.

“Artie!” he cried and rushed across the room. As he rushed over, he happened to step on some of the things that had been destroyed. One of the items he stepped on was the aforementioned picture, the glass in the frame shattering completely, the picture crumpling. Arthur took that as a further sign that his and Francis's relationship was definitely over.

Reaching Arthur, Antonio dropped down beside him, heedless of the sharp shards of ornaments he was likely kneeling on, and wrapped his arms around his friend. His defences down, Arthur leaned into him, his face scrunched up as he tried to contain his tears. When Antonio began to run his hand up and down Arthur's back, Arthur relaxed further, a shaky breath escaping him as he snuggled into Antonio's embrace.

“You can cry, you know,” Antonio murmured into Arthur's hair, a comforting, fluttering feeling. “Let it all out, cariño.”

“I already did,” mumbled Arthur, feeling the energy seep out of him. “Didn't you see?” There was a short silence till a question began to niggle at Arthur. Unable to stay relaxed, he frowned and asked it. “What are you doing here?”

“Fra- He... _He_ ,” Anonio growled, “asked me and Gil to come out for drinks to celebrate something. I was- When we got there, he told us he was engaged – to Lisa.”

Arthur nodded and shifted so he could clutch at Antonio's front. “She doesn't know about our relationship,” Arthur whispered. “And she's so nice, I can't begrudge her. It's _his_ fault. How could he-? How could he do that?!” Arthur realised his voice was beginning to rise, that he was on the verge of shouting. Enraged, he pulled away from Antonio so he do so. “Who _does_ that?!”

“I don't know,” Antonio answered, quietly. When Arthur looked at him, he could see that Antonio's jaw was set and that he looked just as angry as Arthur felt. Antonio blinked and abruptly focussed on Arthur, his expression changing into one of sorrow. “I don't know, Artie. I'm sorry.” He stood up and reached down, gripping Arthur by the elbows. “You should get up, though. You've been there all day, haven't you? You've probably got cramp.”

Without protest, Arthur let Antonio lift him and guide him to the couch. Grimacing, Arthur stretched his legs, trying not to look at the mess he'd made of his own living room. Hesitantly, Antonio snaked an arm around Arthur's waist; Arthur glanced at him as silent acknowledgement and he (almost gleefully) pulled him closer. Arthur laid his head on Antonio's shoulder and Antonio laid his head on top.

“He said he was doing me a favour,” Arthur told Antonio.

“What?! How could he think that?!” Antonio paused, drawing away from Arthur slightly. Arthur lazily, tiredly, turned his head to look at his friend, their faces ridiculously close. “This doesn't sound like Francis. It's like he's an alien.”

“I always thought he _was_ an alien,” Arthur quipped, listlessly.

Antonio chuckled. “You've still got your humour – gracias a Dios.”

“Mm.”

They stayed still, both looking into each other's eyes. Something stirred within Arthur, something which tried to alert him to the situation. Arthur was honestly too tired and too full of self-loathing to listen. He closed his eyes as he felt a fresh batch of self-pitying tears well up.

“What is wrong with me?” he whispered, more to himself than Antonio.

“Did you-? What are you talking about?” Antonio snapped, startling Arthur into opening his eyes.

“Obviously Francis wasn't satisfied with me, if he decided to date someone else, too. I must have done _something_ wrong. Because I can't think of why else he did it.”

“ _No_ ,” Antonio insisted. “It wasn't you in the wrong. It was definitely Francis.”

“You seem so sure.” Arthur sighed, exhausted enough to glance at the clock – it lay smashed at the bottom of the unused fireplace. Just as he opened his mouth to say he was going to go to bed, Antonio spoke up.

“Of course I'm sure! You're kind and patient and determined and brave. Sure, you have your bad points, like being far too stubborn and-and your _cooking_ but you're an amazing person. You deserve better.”

Surprised, a smile began to bloom on Arthur's lips. “Anto-”

Suddenly, Antonio's hand was cupping his cheek. He froze, his eyes fluttering as if part of him couldn't decide whether to watch what was happening or close them in bliss. His heart rate began to pick up as Antonio leaned in close so they were only able to stare into each other's green eyes. “You deserve to be loved.” With that, he pushed forward and pressed their lips together.

Gasping into the kiss, Arthur told himself to move backwards, this was wrong, they were just friends, he wasn't Francis. Yet, for some reason, another part of him made him stay where he was, allowing Antonio to kiss him, to lick at his lips, to draw him closer as he slid his tongue into Arthur's mouth. His emotions stirred, his feelings in a murky whirlpool of confusion. One thing cut through them all, though, as something else entirely stirred, just beneath his belt. He pressed closer to Antonio, his arms around his friend's neck now.

They broke apart for air and Arthur, his thoughts muddled now, shook his head slightly in an effort to clear it. A thought broke through and he voiced it, his voice low and deep with lust. “Francis...”

“Forget about him,” Antonio demanded, pausing to kiss Arthur's forehead. “You don't need him. He doesn't love you – but I do. I've loved you for years now, Art. Te amo.”

Then they were kissing again, hungry desperate kisses. Tongues and teeth clashed but it made it all the better. At one point, Arthur found himself biting Antonio's lower lip, drawing a moan from the other man. He was practically in Antonio's lap, he was pressing so close – Antonio solved that by pulling him over until he was straddling him, leaning down to continue the kiss.

Once again, they broke for air, Arthur's love for his boyfriend thrumming through him. Smiling widely, he murmured, “Francis...” before opening his eyes. Seeing Antonio there, his eyes widened, suddenly realising what was going on. “Wha-? No!” he cried as Antonio scowled and reached up for him. Antonio paused at Arthur's cry and watched in shock as Arthur threw himself sideways and sidled as far from Antonio as he could get while remaining on the couch. “What are you doing?!” he demanded.

For a few moments, Antonio merely blinked at him. Then he paled and his eyes widened with fear. “I... Arthur, I, um.” He took a deep breath and glanced at the destruction that surrounded them. “I... Well... For years now, I've watched you and Francis. I love you and seeing you with him hurt. So when Francis told me what had happened...”

“You decided to take advantage?!” exclaimed Arthur, rising to his feet to glower down at the man he thought was his best friend. “It's only been a few hours!”

“I didn't mean to!” Antonio defended himself, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “I honestly only meant to comfort you. But I wanted to cheer you up and you just looked so cute, I couldn't resist.”

“'Cute'?! Toni, the love of my life just left me to go marry another woman!”

Antonio stiffened and quickly met Arthur's gaze. Whatever he found there made him slump in defeat. “You... love him?”

“ _Loved_ ,” Arthur corrected. Then he paused. “I mean...” He trailed off, trying to sort out what was going on in his head. Part of him was mourning Francis, another wanted to kill him. There was still love there and pain but it had been compacted and swept aside with the junk he had thrown around. But there was another part of him which was telling him to return to Antonio's embrace – _a familiar embrace, a comforting embrace, an embrace which felt_ right – and continue where they had left off.

Was that a buried emotion which was rearing his head now that there was room for Antonio in his heart? Or did he want comfort and company so bad that he was willing to let Antonio have his way in exchange for him staying?

Shaking, Arthur felt something on his cheek. He reached up to wipe it away and realised that he was crying again. Alarmed, he looked back at Antonio to find him just as surprised. Antonio stood as well and stepped towards him: Arthur leaned back and out of reach.

“I don't know how I feel,” he breathed. “It's all a mess. You-You... This is not the time- Please just leave!”

“What? But-”

“No. Please go. I was already dealing with my heartbreak but now you've gone and confused everything!”

Silence for a breath. Then, “I'm sorry, Art. I messed up again. I- Please don't shut me out...”

Tears still rolling down his cheeks, Arthur glared at Antonio. “Just... Stay away from me. I don't need you to hug me and-and wipe away my tears. I'm not a child! Get out!” Arthur's anger began to rise and Antonio seemed to see it. He grimaced and nodded, turning away.

“When you feel better,” he said, quietly, “let me know.”

Then he was gone, the front door swinging shut behind him. As soon as the bang signalled Antonio's departure, Arthur collapsed to the floor, sobbing once again. Anger flashed through him and he grabbed the nearest object and threw it in a random direction. Instead of a thud or a shattering sound, there was a dull thump as if the item had hit something soft. Looking up, he found the thing on the couch: another photo. Frowning, Arthur crawled closer, intent on throwing it at the door. However, when he reached it, he spotted what it was.

Although their school hadn't had an actual graduation ceremony, Arthur and Antonio's parents bought them robes and hats to have them pose for pictures. They took more serious ones but this picture was one of the silly versions they'd taken. While the ones Arthur hadn't displayed consisted of them pulling faces or 'fighting', this one showed them laughing, leaning on each other for support.

Surprisingly, the frame looked untouched. There was barely a scratch on it: somehow, it had survived Arthur's temper. He looked from it to the one of him and Francis, broken beyond repair. Slowly, he leaned against the couch, curled against it, staring between the two. As he pondered on his life and how complicated it had become, his tears dried up. His exhaustion pressed down on him and, before long, he had fallen asleep with his head resting on his folded arms.


End file.
